


A Crude Awakening

by Ias



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8397991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ias/pseuds/Ias
Summary: “What in god’s name are you doing here?”“Now what kind of thing is that to say to the dear friend who sat by your  bedside, not sure you'd make it through the night?”Saal squinted at him dubiously. “You were skimming off my pain meds, weren’t you.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MasterOfAllImagination](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasterOfAllImagination/gifts).



> My dear friend/problematic fav Kyra was having a shit day so I wrote this to cheer her up. Hopefully it worked ;)

Saal woke up. All things considered, it was a good start. Well. _One_ thing considered. Namely, the part where his ship exploded. He hadn’t exactly expected to walk away from that one. Waking up at all was an unexpected perk.

Which left the rest of the things to be considered. In order of priority: pain, light, pain, weird smell, pain, dear god, _pain._ He appeared to be in a medical center, in a horrifyingly comical full-body cast. So really, not such a great start after all.

And that wasn’t even taking into consideration _the varmint_.

“Oh, look at that. You’re still alive.”

“Hrrugrhh,” Saal said. He was beginning to suspect his face had been dislocated.

“Nice to hear you talk good as always.”

A rustle of paper by his ear. Slowly, agonizingly, Saal turned his head. He didn’t _need_ to look in order to know exactly who was sitting beside him. That voice had been the last he’d heard before the barrier had broken and he’d been crushed to his untimely and heroic death. Almost. So he didn’t need to look to know that it was Rocket sitting at his bedside like the world’s worst Florence Nightingale; but rather, he wanted to give him a _look_.

Rocket’s beady little eyes stared at him over the cover of a magazine with an unmistakably lewd picture of an indistinguishable alien life form plastered across the cover. At Saal’s expression, he broke out into a toothy grin. “Now there’s the Saal I know and love. Three misplaced stiches from certain death, and you’ve _still_ got the best stinkeye in town.”

Saal groaned and closed his eyes. Unfortunately, unconsciousness was not so easy to summon. He opened them up again. “What happened?”

“We won. Duh.” Rocket flipped to the next page with a flourish. “The only bad news is, Doc said the stick up your ass is totally inoperable. Heh.”

Unpacking that comment would be a losing game that Saal had no intention of playing. “What in god’s name are _you_ doing here?”

“Now what kind of thing is that to say to the dear friend who sat by your bedside, not sure you'd make it through the night?”

Saal squinted at him dubiously. “You were skimming off my pain meds, weren’t you.”

“Listen, that’s some strong stuff they’re giving you. I didn’t want them to turn you into a vegetable.”

“I’m in agony.”

“Drama queen. Here, I brought stuff.”

To Saal’s admittedly drugged-up horror, Rocket reached into his grubby little backpack and pulled out a roll of more magazines, a half-eaten candy bar, and what looked like a knife. God, he hoped it was a knife.

“Porno mags,” Rocket said, tossing them down on Saal’s lap and nearly making him black out again. Because there was no merciful God, he didn’t.

“You disgusting little ingrate,” Saal said. “Why would I possibly want these?”

“Geez, ungrateful much.” Unsurprisingly, Rocket stuffed the magazines back into his bag. Saal wondered if he could convince the nurses to scrub down the parts of his cast they’d touched.

“Anyways,” Rocket continued, “did you know you don’t have any friends _or_ family? If it wasn’t for me you could have died all alone in some anonymous hospital bed with no one to claim you, and then they’d put your body in the mulcher and use it to fertilize the local herb garden. I saved you.”

“Firstly, yes, thank you, I was aware of that fact. Secondly, I _didn’t_ die. Thirdly, that’s not how the medical system works. I don’t have a fourth point, but I can’t stress enough how much I don’t need you here.”

Rocket quite literally bristled. “Oh, big hero man already forgetting his friends, huh? I see how it is.”

Saal stared at him, deadpan. “We’re not friends.”

“How could you say that?”

“I’ve known you for approximately a day.”

“Not true! We met in prison.”

“Oh, right. Bosom mates, then.”

“Damn right. Hey, don’t roll your eyes so hard, you might black out.”

“I should be so lucky.” Saal stared up at the ceiling because, full-body cast in consideration, he didn’t have much else to look at. “Is this the thanks I get for doing my duty? Being berated by a rabid monkey in a jumpsuit?”

Rocket bared his teeth. “Jumpsuits are in this season, you tasteless cretin.”

“Flea-ridden mutt.”

“Drab little man.”

They glared at each other for a long second. Part of Saal was wondering whether it was possible for him to rock his cast onto the “Security” button on the side of the bed. The other… was irrationally glad the awful little rodent was here. If memory served, there had been actual, genuine emotion in Rocket’s voice when the barrier broke apart and Saal’s ship went down. Then again, the more he thought about it the more that seemed like some kind hallucination. Well, he’d take it either way.

“Anyways,” Rocket said, leaning back and raising his magazine once again. “I can’t stick around for long. If anyone sees me pining over your broken body they’ll start to say I’m one of the good guys.”

“Should I bother pointing out the fact that you just helped saved millions of lives?”

“Ugh, please. Someone might hear you.” 


End file.
